Page 145 of A Perilous Passion

He glanced up to see what effect this revelation had on her. Her lips were parted and she looked genuinely horrified. “An Englishman?” she asked incredulously.

“Presumably. The date of the drop was no doubt chosen to coincide with last night’s ball, when the whole village was occupied elsewhere.” His chair scraped back and crashed against the window ledge as he rose and stalked over to the fireplace. “I should have been there, in charge of those soldiers. I’d never have let them be such an easy target.”

“You didn’t know. It wasn’t your fault, Rafe,” she said, her eyes filled with compassion.

He stalked back to the desk again. “I should have known. I was a short-sighted idiot to attend that ball. I should have been at my post, vigilant. But instead, I made a tryst with you. Had it not been for my selfish desires, that soldier might still be alive, and I might have intercepted those vital dispatches from Napoleon. Intelligence that could have saved thousands of British lives.”

His voice had risen with each word. Charlotte’s eyes were wide as saucers. He stared down for a moment at his balled fists to calm himself. “Make no mistake, I don’t blame you. The fault is all mine. I’ve threatened you, I’ve forced you to meet with me, I’ve pushed my unwanted attentions upon you. I’m truly sorry, Charlotte.” When she said nothing, he looked up. “Charlotte?”

She seemed not to be listening.

Suddenly, she shot out of her chair and grasped him by the sleeve. “Rafe! I think I know who the ringleader is!” In her face was pure excitement, not deceit.

“How is that possible?” he demanded. “Tell me!”

“At the ball last night I danced with the Earl of Culverdale. He was dressed as Apollo—you must have seen him.”

“Of course. What about it?”

“I noticed he vanished for a long while, which seemed odd for the host. At first, I thought he was just at cards or smoking a pipe or whatever gentlemen do. But when he appeared for his dance with me, his hands were cold, as if he’d been outside. And his boots dropped something on the floor that felt gritty under my slippers, like sand. I thought it very strange he’d gone to the beach and not had his boots cleaned before the ball.”

Rafe stared at her, instantly grasping her meaning. “You think he went during the ball.”

“He must have ridden faster than the wind. But…yes, it’s the only plausible explanation.”

Rafe paced the room, his mind tangled in frenzied thought.

Culverdale.

The earl would have just the right amount of authority to tempt secrets out of unwary ministers and generals but was too high in the instep to be considered a potential traitor. Even Rafe had dismissed him as a self-important bore. Clearly, he’d underestimated the man.

What might the earl’s motives be? Capital interests in France? Family connections? Was he being blackmailed, or being promised the earth by Bonaparte?

Or simply a man with no loyalty or patriotism?

“I think you may be right,” he said slowly, “but don’t involve yourself in this. Let me deal with it. We need to concentrate on getting you home safely with your reputation intact. Wait here in the study for now, and don’t move a muscle. Promise me?”

She nodded, but her eyes sparked with pleasure. Because she’d successfully turned his focus away from herself? Or because she’d helped him?

He hoped the latter.

As soon as he found Paynter, he brought him back inside and introduced him to Charlotte. Having been reassured the man’s pistol was primed, Rafe bade him wait in the hallway for a moment.

“Pay attention,” he said to her, returning to his study. “No more midnight walks, unless it’s a matter of life or death. Never go out alone. And I strictly forbid you ever to come here again. If there’s something urgent you must tell me, have Thomas the Carrier find me. I’ll come straight away or send one of my men. But only if you’re in dire straits. Understood?”

She nodded, but her disappointment was palpable. Clearly, she’d been poised to share his adventure. If nothing else, the woman had great courage.

Either that, or she’d been brought up by a master felon who’d taught her to take care of herself.

“I understand,” she replied primly. “I’ll go with Paynter, and I’ll try to restrain myself from troubling you again in future. Good luck with your endeavors, my lord.”

He ached to take her in his arms and say a proper farewell, the way his heart desired, but forced himself to step back. “One day, when all this is over, I hope to be able to make amends to you.”

She pulled her shawl tightly about her shoulders and moved past him into the passageway. “No need, sir,” she said icily. “I’ve had a little adventure, which has relieved the tedium of my existence. If I’ve helped my country by offering up a suspected traitor, then I’m satisfied. I neither want, nor expect, anything further from you.”

Touché, Charlotte! Of course she was angry; of course she was cold. He’d given her every reason to be.

He wasn’t accustomed to being hurt by a woman’s words. But hurt him they had. As she walked away from him and out into the night with Paynter, he felt as if he’d just been kicked in the chest.